It walks at night
by SkyeElf
Summary: As the Head of the Aurory, Harry had seen a lot of things, but nothing like this. It was a strange case, one that would change his life forever. A confusing case that left the other departments befuddled, and left Harry annoyed with their inability to distinguish a brownie from a house elf. Rated M, for several reasons, including sexual situations and mentions of rape. HP/GW.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, I have never done so much research as I've done for this fic. I went by what Wikipedia and various other websites said, stir a bit of my insanity in and you have this. I'm sorry if I got anything wrong, the internet isn't always reliable.**

**This is rated M, not just for lemons, but because it refers to rape. A warning.**

**This fic is dedicated to my friend, Batmarcus, in its entirety. **

**I don't own anything you recognise. Except Mpho, Rosina and Lerato.**

Another note: This fic is being revamped, I am also making it better than the previous one was; this is one of my favourite stories and because of this I am redoing it.

**Chapter 1: A Strange Case**

Harry frowned at the file he was holding. He'd been studying it for two weeks now, and his desk was littered with written notes and pictures.

Something didn't add up. Odd events had been occurring in the British Wizarding world, more importantly, in his city, London. It only touched two families, but he didn't wish for it to spread any further.

This case had, quite literally, jumped at him with the arrival of a woman, and the case scared him, because of its bizarre nature, and it took a lot to scare the Head of the Aurory.

He'd never expected something like this to happen, something so odd, so disturbing... and he had seen quite a bit of strange things in his life.

The first time anything happened, the department dealing with the first case dismissed it as a poltergeist and advised the family to move. Rude words had appeared against the walls in crayon or mud, odd noises could be heard, like yelps or things falling off their places, and only the couple's toddler could see something. Being four, the little boy described the creature as "small and hairy and ugly". The Jones' family feared for their son's well-being and mental state.

Harry thought the child was perfectly fine. He himself had been ignored as a child whenever he saw strange things, like tiny creatures running around his uncle and aunt's garden, but he didn't dare mention them after the first time.

Peeves had been more ghost than human, and he bothered almost everyone, not to mention everyone could see him, not just smaller children. Not that Hogwarts ever played host to toddlers, that is.

The small family of three had moved, hoping to be rid of the problem. It went all right for two nights, before the odd noises and pranks started again. It was always directed at the adults, never at the child.

Harry was relieved that the boy wasn't harmed by the creature, or at least that was what the files said. According to the parents, it had made friends with the boy, and the child refused to tell them when he was nearby. The child was protecting this… whatever it was? It wasn't something Harry was familiar with, and he had done quite a lot of studying up on magical and mythical creatures.

The next conclusion, after poltergeist, that the specialists made was that it was a brownie, who would continue his 'work' until they gifted him with clothing. Harry scoffed at this – it was a brownie, not a bloody house elf or a hobgoblin!

A brownie was a type of creature that resembled a goblin, only a cuter version, and later Harry would find out that the brownie and these specific creatures were, in fact, cousins. Brownies weren't normally the type of creature to go rogue unless you start calling their 'gifts' 'payments' or if the house owners misused them. They were peaceful.

Harry strongly doubted that someone would abuse a brownie, seeing as it would result in the loss of a servant. Brownies also never scared the people they lived with, brownies were helpful creatures, much like house elves were, only they wanted things to eat, like porridge and honey; they liked helping people.

Thus this conclusion made Harry wonder if he would need to speak to the Head of the magical creatures department about getting their subordinates into tip-top shape for dealing with said magical creatures.

Maybe he would have to ask Hagrid to join the Auror ranks, even just to help with these types of cases, but he didn't think Hagrid would leave Hogwarts.

The Jones' had put clothes out, making sure they were in sight. Harry already guesses that this didn't work. Someone in the magical creatures department really needed to educate themselves. Imagine that, confusing a brownie with a house elf?

Another week later, and the clothes were still there. Not that this surprised Harry in the least. The trouble hadn't stopped at all, it had simply gotten worse. The creature was obviously mischievous, exactly like a poltergeist was, but it was yet to be seen if it was evil.

Then bad came to worse, and Mr Jones fell ill.

It was awful, he had a high fever, boils had broken out over his entire body, he was differing between being cold and complaining it was too hot, his hands burned – as if it had some sort of fungus-infection, his feet were swollen – it just kept coming. No matter what they did, it just kept getting worse and no wizarding healer nor could a muggle doctor find the problem. They first thought it was a simple fever, but then the other symptoms arrived.

Next? It spread to another family, the Rodnicks. This family had a little girl, age three, who also showed signs of seeing something. In the same way, the little girl wasn't harmed, but the mother fell ill. In this case, the father had lost his job. So, Harry thought, the creature didn't harm children (something he was explicitly thankful for), it brought awful luck to the adults of the families.

Harry dove into his work, doing as much research as he could, because there was no way he would be trusting someone in the department of magical beings anytime soon, not until they figured out who was an incompetent idiot and needed to go back to Hogwarts. He could've asked Hermione, but she was away on some conference that was promoting the rights of house elves.

He thought it might be a Kobalos, a creature from Greek mythology that liked to trick humanoid beings, whether muggle or wizard, but that also didn't make sense. Kobaloi preyed on small children, not on adults. So he quickly dismissed that idea as equally unbelievable. Why would something notorious for preying on children suddenly prey on adults and, in a way, befriend the children?

He even considered a Cornish pixie, but they didn't match the description of small and fat and hairy, as the little boy said.

A hobgoblin seemed like another likely idea, but they were like brownies, doing deeds in the house when the families were happily dreaming of (hopefully) sweet things. Giving them clothes would work, that Harry knew, because it was a very serious insult for a hobgoblin.

These creatures, however, did fit into the description that the little boy gave, because hobgoblins were small, white and hairy. These tiny creatures were also the more likely culprit than a brownie was of these crimes, seeing as the hobgoblins had a taste for practical jokes that even rivalled Fred and George's, while brownies were peaceful (another reason someone in the magical creatures department should be yelled at – this was getting ridiculous).

Harry's money was on a hobgoblin for the time being. Yet, he couldn't understand why the creature left the child alone.

It was when Mrs Jones, two weeks after Harry first received their file, came to the Aurory, her clothes torn, her hair a mad mess and her eyes murky with continuous tears, that things spiralled out of control.

. . .

**A/N: Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to Batmarcus for reviewing.**

**Warning: This chapter has mentions of rape, though not as a lemon, I don't do that, folks.**

**Chapter 2: Ron Weasley's moment**

Harry surged forward, catching the frail woman into his arms. He knew who this was; he'd seen her picture in the file. She was tiny, had brown eyes and dirty blonde hair that reached her shoulders. She was an avid gardener and enjoyed the odd muggle film.

"Mrs Jones?" He asked, more than a bit confused. She steadied herself, thanking him for catching her. Her clothes were torn, he noticed, and he wondered what could possibly have done this to her. He immediately dismissed the idea of a hobgoblin too, because hobgoblins didn't tear clothes to shreds.

Behind her, he saw Ron come up to them. Harry shook his head the tiniest bit, and Ron paused.

"Mrs Jones, what has happened?" he asked, pointing to a chair for her to sit. She shook her head, de didn't want to sit.

"I… I…" She started, but she said that one word a few more times, before Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

"Take a deep breath, ma'am," he then looked up at his friend, who hadn't moved, "would you please get her a glass of water with a few teaspoons of sugar in it?" Harry asked, knowing that tap water with a generous helping of sugar would help with her obvious shock. She was crying, and Harry could see she was terrified.

Ron quickly returned with the glass of water. Mrs Jones possibly drowned herself in the water, before she calmed down.

"I was raped." She finally managed in a cracked voice. Harry's mind started to whirl, as, it seemed, did Ron's.

"Mrs Jones, we need to send you to St. Mungo's." He said, going over into Auror mode, he grabbed his wand and the file.

"I'm not lying!" Mrs Jones yelled desperately.

"I know, ma'am, but you need to go for a check-up and we need to calm you down even more." He said, and Ron nodded, already on his way to the wizarding hospital in a loud _pop._

Mrs Jones took a hold of Harry's arm, getting his attention back to her.

"I didn't shower once it went away, sir, maybe he left imprints on me." She explained, shaking where she stood.

"That was extremely clever of you, ma'am, now we can have proof of who, or what, did this." He said darkly. He would find whoever did this and slice their groin open.

Ron returned, nodding to Harry, "They're ready." Harry curled an arm around Mrs Jones' waist and turned on the spot to St. Mungo's.

Later, when she was done at St. Mungo's, Harry asked if she was ready to talk about it; she said she was. It was a part of his job that he hated – having to discuss the traumatizing events with victims.

"Where was your husband?" Harry asked, forgetting the tiny detail. She was holding herself, and she looked much better after she'd washed her face and tied her blonde hair back into a ponytail. She was still shaking like a leaf, not that Harry could blame her, and her speech was a bit shaky too.

"He's sick at St. Mungo's, sir," Mrs. Jones explained, "I left my son at the neighbour's, he's asleep."

"Would you allow me to extract the memory? I've only received the file of your case a few days ago, and I don't know much about it yet, besides for the fact that the people in the other departments are idiots."

Harry had learned that the memory of something traumatic had to be extracted soon after the happening, and it was important that she didn't go to sleep, because sleeping would cause the memory to linger and become immortalized in her brain. And who would want to remember what she had gone through?

She nodded, and Harry extracted the silver memory from her mind. He wished he was skilled at Legilamency, to supress to memory or to push it to the back of her mind, but he didn't dare try; it would end disastrously. Maybe he would send her to a mind healer.

"Where were you when it happened?" Harry asked once he'd pushed the silver strand into a small tube, picking up a pen and drawing his paperwork closer. She would now be giving her testimony.

"In my husband and I's bed, Johnny, that's my son, and I were alone in the house," She said, "I was asleep when I felt something on the bed beside me… and then… then… it…" She was gasping for air, tears rolling over her cheeks again. Harry held up a hand for her to stop, the rest he could get from the memory.

"Mrs Jones, I understand that you're really tired at this moment, but I implore you not to go to sleep. Sleeping will cause the memory to burn into your mind, I advise you to tire yourself out until you feel like you would even sleep on a cactus. Go take a shower, scrub yourself down, and do something." He said, trying to sound kind, but the small space of time he'd spent as an Auror had hardened him against murders, rape cases and everything else. It was just another day at the office for him.

"Yes, sir." The small woman said, getting up from her chair. Harry called Ron and asked him to return Mrs Jones to her home, or to the home of her sister or neighbours. Ron did so without complaining.

Once Ron returned, he went straight to his best friend.

"What happened?" The ginger man asked, sitting across Harry's desk. Harry and Ron were partners in the field, mostly because they made such a good team, but also because they would never let the other one go into a dangerous place alone.

"She was raped, Ron, I thought you caught that."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Of course I did, Harry, I meant… what exactly happened?"

Harry tapped the small tube with the silvery lint in it.

"Care to find out?" Harry's voice sounded heavy, and Ron nodded morosely.

They crossed over to the pensieve Harry had acquired for his office, and he poured the memory into the basin. It expanded, like smoke, before it covered the basin from side to side. Harry was reminded of someone with awful smoking habits who liked to blow smoke rings.

They fell into a bedroom, but all they saw was a sleeping woman, Mrs Jones. The door opened silently, and Ron tapped Harry's hand to draw his attention to the pair of empty eyes that stared at the bed.

The creature scrambled into the room and onto the bed, and it was indeed small and hairy and incredibly ugly. It pushed her face into pillow, causing the young mother to wake up. Without warning, her underwear was ripped off her behind and the little monster thrust his huge penis into her small body.

It beat her, repeatedly, and went as far as ejaculating in her. Ron looked nauseous, but it slid off Harry like oil, he was hardened against it. He did study the creature though.

It was small, as small as a goblin, and it only wore a loin cloth. But the most impressive thing about this creature was its penis – he could sling it over his shoulder. That made Harry a bit green – it was disgusting.

Would a poltergeist rape a woman? Would it beat her? Would it empty its seed into her body? What was this beast? These questions infuriated Harry beyond belief.

Harry thought not. Poltergeists were mischievous, sometimes dangerous when it came to scaring people (Peeves sometimes made people set fire to themselves, after all), but they wouldn't resort to rape as a means of terrifying people, nor would brownies, Cornish pixies or hobgoblins, so Harry tossed those ideas out the window immediately.

Once he and Ron were back on earth, he turned to his partner, "Did you know what that was?"

Ron swallowed thickly, "You mean besides awful? No, mate, I don't, sorry."

"Do you know of any creatures that would rape a woman for no reason at all?" Harry frowned, drawing Mrs Jones' statement closer and adding a detailed description of the terrible creature.

"Not unless you're referring to the anephilim, mate, and those nutters were killed ages ago." Ron shrugged. Harry nodded, but made a note on a separate notepad.

The anephilim were half-angels, half-humans, the ancient giants and the original half-breeds, also known as the Greek deities of old. These creatures were all destroyed in a huge flood. But, Harry reasoned, one might have survived and it could've weakened over time.

"What about satyrs and centaurs?" Harry pointed out, causing his best friend to laugh.

"Mate, neither of those is as small as that… thing was. Look, I'll look it up and if I can't find anything, I'll ask Hermione. You can check with Hagrid?" Ron suggested, and Harry nodded.

"Go home, Harry, it's late." Ron stood up, heading to the door.

. . .

Harry contacted Mrs Jones the first thing the next day, telling her to arrive at St. Mungo's as soon as possible. He waited for her.

She looked awfully pale, her eyes were sunken, she was shaking, but from cold, and Harry was truly worried about her. That hadn't happened in a very long time. Ginny was also there, and she helped Mrs Jones to a room that she'd flooed ahead to arrange.

Harry had also ordered six aurors to guard each of the Jones family members as a precaution.

He then made his way over to the idiotic department that couldn't tell a house elf from a brownie. The head of the department handed him the file on the Rodnicks, just as requested, with no hassle or complaint; because when Harry Potter, the man who stopped the Dark Lord, asked for something, you didn't ask questions and just gave in. When he told you that your department needed either new training or new staff, you also just nod and start filling out the paperwork for that additional training.

Harry feared that Mr Rodnick would meet the same fate as Mrs Jones had, seeing as Mrs Rodnick was in St. Mungo's at the time. The opposite sex game had taken place here, and for some reason that Harry couldn't understand, he found that suspicious.

"Ron?" He asked his partner, "Did you find a creature yet?" He pinched the bridge of his nose after he'd taken his glasses of, he had a massive headache.

Ron shook his head in a no, not lifting his eyes from his file. He was going over the Jones' file; perhaps he could find something that Harry had missed.

"I'll ask Hermione tonight." Ron said in monotone. He quickly sat up, spilling the coffee that Kreacher had brought to Harry's office a few minutes ago. He cursed, spelling his pants dry, before shoving the file under Harry's nose.

"South Africa!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing the Rodnick file from Harry's grasp and flipping to a page. "Harry, South Africa, that's what these two families have in common! They both went to South Africa for a holiday recently! That's what they have in common! Well, that and that they both have small children. We've been searching for creatures in all the wrong places!"

. . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Scary Woman from South Africa**

Harry was astounded by Ron's moment of utter genius. Harry hadn't noticed, and he quickly set into action.

Harry was worried, the creature hadn't harmed the children, but it might be biding its time to do something terrible to them, much like centaurs did with some women (he recalled what had happened to Umbridge in his fifth year, and though she was an evil toad, she didn't deserve to be gang-raped by a bunch of centaurs. No one deserved to be raped.)

He called his personal assistant, Dennis, and asked him to set up a meeting with the prestigious Sangoma Lerato in South Africa, he needed her input on this matter.

The day Harry became head of the department he'd met people from all over the world, people there who were, in most senses, his equals where jobs were concerned. He'd met an array of colourful characters, but none stranger than the witch doctors from the largest producer of gold in the world, South Africa.

These witch doctors were what he called 'salient'. Hermione had once that word when she described ghosts, and Harry had to ask what it meant.

"_It means spooky, Harry, but at the same beautiful. Like a ghost, look at the Grey Lady. She is the most beautiful woman in Hogwarts at this very moment, yet she is spooky and she can scare anyone she chooses to."_

These witch doctors were spooky and beautiful at the same time. He wasn't exactly scared of them, but he really didn't want to be on their bad sides either. They had powers that would be considered as 'dark' in Britain, but Harry had learned a long time ago that just because something was considered dark, it meant that branch wasn't useful for good causes.

Some of the witch doctors acted like normal people, they communicated with the outside world and didn't scare the others off; others had this aura of the paranormal around them. These auras had the message that these people should not be approached, because they could curse you into next week.

Voodoo was a common practice among the South African witch doctors, but only to those who truly deserved it. Of course you got those who were crooked and did it for a bit of extra money.

They had many names, it just depended on which of South Africa's eleven official languages you spoke; mostly they were referred to as Sangomas, the 'g' as an explosive sound, but Harry couldn't say that, so he called her a witch doctor. You needed to be born in South Africa to be able to pronounce it as the locals did.

South Africa was apparently riddled with witches who wished to do others harm, and they used the lingering curses and potions and runes to get their points across. These witch doctors were basically the South African Aurory, they didn't hide from muggles, though, and they welcomed the muggles into their huts whenever the muggles felt they were being cursed by dark witches.

Harry was secretly glad that Voldemort had never recruited in South Africa, because then they would have lost the war for sure. These witches used types of magic that would give even Voldemort nightmares sometimes.

On the other side, a lot of these muggles feared the witch doctors, because they used controversial methods: they spoke to the ancestor spirits, some dabbled in fortune-telling, but only those that have the inner eye could truly see; others threw bones, using spit from the person or some sort of DNA who needed his fortune told, mixing it with the bones and then throwing them. They could read these bones like one could read tea-leaves.

"Mr Potter?" Dennis called, poking his head into Harry's office, pulling him from his thoughts, "She said she'll see you."

"Call Auror Weasley for me, will you, please? I need my partner if I'm going into the field, or the Minister will have my head." He said politely, and Dennis was on his way. Harry hated that he had to refer to Ron as Auror Weasley when in office and when they weren't speaking directly, when they had been best friends for years, and also how he couldn't call Kingsley by his name. Why did everything have to be so stiff?

Ron was there under a minute, and together, or rather after one another, the two friends flooed to the hut of one very scary, yet brilliant, Sangoma Lerato.

They stumbled out into a rather large hut, feeling dizzy from spinning uncontrollably for a longer period than normally – they were traveling across continents, after all. A woman sat on the floor in front of a mat made of weaved grass, candles burning around her.

"Harry Potter," The woman greeted him, her head bowed over a mat, "And Ronald Weasley."

She'd thrown bones on the mat in front of her, and only she could interpret it. She had some of Harry's DNA, insisting on a few hairs so as to protect him when she first him. Harry appreciated the idea – that way, he would be able to save himself from whatever this creature was.

Harry was not self-serving, far from it, but if this creature got to him, who would solve the case? He was absolutely certain that Ron would crack it eventually, but it would take him a long time, just like Harry alone would take an eternity. They worked better when they worked together.

Harry made a mental note to ask Lerato to take some of Ron's DNA too.

Her skin was dark and her hands we dainty, her fingers a light pink in contrast to the rest of her body. Harry recalled that she was from a local Zulu tribe, a tribe who put much store by what their witch doctor said and hailed her as a messenger of the ancestral spirits. She could relay messages and the ancestors of the tribespeople spoke through her.

There were beads weaved her hair into the shape of a crown in her dreadlocks. She was dressed in the traditional white clothes of the Sangoma. There was no doubt that she was very beautiful, but she wasn't a vain person, Harry had learned.

"Lerato," He greeted her, bowing respectfully, noting that Ron followed him, "You know why we're here?"

The dark skinned woman nodded, finally looking up at Harry and Ron; she gave a friendly smile in greeting, though it was clear that it didn't reach her eyes; it made Harry worry even more than he already was worrying.

"Sit down, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, I have news you will want to hear sitting."

Harry spotted two bright yellow pillows across from her, and sat on one, glad when Ron did the same. He was also very happy that Ron had decided to keep his large-at-times mouth shut, because they couldn't afford to insult the woman in front of them; they needed her.

"You're people are haunted by a tokoloshe." She said, looking him in the eye. "Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, we have much to discuss."

Harry noted how she always addressed Ron too, and he thought that she was afraid of insulting the two of them too. He knew he was right when she politely made eye-contact with Ron.

Lerato glanced down at the strange bones beneath her, a frown covering her pretty face.

"A woman, he was taken by a tokoloshe," Lerato said, and he thought he saw her shiver when he nodded in confirmation, "You must cleanse de woman, Harry Potter, or you'll have a Tokoloshe-child on your hands, which is already bad. She will never be pleased by another man if you do not cleanse her," She went on, "Dey are high maintenance, expensive and cursed children." She spoke the word 'cursed' in two syllables. "And de Tokoloshe will return for him, for de child, and he will kill de woman." She went on. Harry nodded – years of being an Auror had made him hard. "We must catch dis demon, for he will steal de child away."

Her English was a bit off, Harry thought, but she was the one to turn to for this and he looked over it.

"How do I cleanse her?" He asked, hoping it didn't include anything bloody, as some of the Sangoma's things did. He shivered at the thought of how the dark witches made muti.

"Abortion." The African shaman replied with a shrug. Harry shivered – he wasn't against abortion, but he wasn't exactly for it either. He was rather surprised by the non-magic means of 'cleansing'. "You say dere's another family?"

Harry nodded, but he hadn't said a thing about another family, he assumed his assistant had given her the file. It was confirmed when he saw the bright green file lying on a chair behind her.

Lerato was one of the few Sangomas that wasn't a scam-artist; she knew what she was doing. She came highly recommended, because she didn't fool muggles with mutis and creams that would make them win the lottery or make their penises grow or something of the sort.

"Tell dem to raise deir bed, put bricks under de feet." She said, standing up and going over to a nearby rack. She extracted a silver chain with an odd little creature on it as a charm. "De little one must wear this, it keeps de tokoloshe away." She dropped it into Harry's hand, along with a small tub. "And de others, de mother and de father, must rub this muti onto deir bodies. It is Tokoloshe-fat, it will repel de huli." She clicked her tongue. Harry wanted to ask what a 'huli' was, until he recalled that it was simply another word for 'tokoloshe', which had a lot of other words.

"Last, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, we must find her, de witch, because if we destroy de caster's grip on de creature, de creature will return to what it was before." Lerato said, her voice was deep and eerie, as if she was a bit scared herself. Harry thought he was scared of nothing, but the woman in front of him was truly scared of nothing. She faced off with scam-artist Sangomas who skinned cats under a full moon for some odd reason.

"What exactly was the creature before?" Harry asked, hoping he wouldn't regret his question. Ron nodded beside him, still not uttering a word. Ron was frowning again, and Harry smiled inwardly at the influence Hermione had on him. Ron had grown up, he was still full of jokes and incredibly goofy, but he was also serious when he needed to be.

"It was a man, Harry Potter, a recently dead man, whose body was stolen by a she, a witch. Him tongue and eyes are cut out, and to make him into de African goblin, they blow dis powder into him mouth and put a hot iron through him head." She held up a green powder. Of course she knew how to make one, she was a witch doctor, and they had to have their servants.

Harry had to concentrate to follow her dialect, she was speaking Black South African English, 'that man, she was a tsotsi' (a tsotsi was a black delinquent). Often confusing 'him' with 'his' or 'her' with 'she', or calling a man a 'she'.

"But de making of the huli comes with a terrible price, Harry Potter; it needs de spirit of a loved one, de natural spirit, in exchange for de unnatural one."

Harry wasn't surprised, Voldemort did kill his father; you had to kill someone to make a horcrux, inferi spoke for themselves...

"How do I catch this thing?" He asked. She looked affronted at him. He was immediately alarmed – he had insulted her and he couldn't afford that!

"You can't capture de tokoloshe, Harry Potter, only I can." She snapped at him. "Only I know the way to banish dem!" Her eyes were wild, the whites of her eyes large as he seemed to be a threat to her.

"Okay, all right, you can banish them!" Harry said defensively. Lerato sat back, her pupils turned back to their normal size, she was calmer. That had been terrifying. She was even worse than Mrs Weasley on a bad day.

She leaned over the bones she'd thrown just before Harry and Ron had arrived.

"Wait!" She yelled, her one finger pointed delicately to an array of bones, "I see, Harry Potter, I see dat dis tokoloshe-child will be born -" Harry shivered, that poor woman. " - and you will take care of it."

Harry paled, he didn't have a shortage of money, but he didn't want to take a strange woman's child from her! "You must take it in, Harry Potter, or it will make many troubles for us all."

Harry gulped – he and Ginny had just gotten married two years ago! Now he had to take care of a baby?

Not that he didn't like children, he adored Teddy, but he wasn't ready for that type of responsibility yet. Ginny couldn't understand it, she wanted to have children, but he just wasn't ready yet. He was the youngest man to have ever become the Head of the Aurory, and with it the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, due to his many fights with both dark wizards and dark magic.

"Now you must warn de woman, Harry Potter," Lerato's voice became eerie again, "she will die! From de huli-child..."

"I'm not going to tell her when she'll die!" Harry yelled. Lerato gave him a surprised look, before her expression relaxed.

"Of course, you prefer not to know when your time is." She said, nodding her dreadlocked head in understanding.

She smiled suddenly, her unnaturally white teeth glistening in the candle-light. Ron looked more than a bit freaked out, but he didn't voice this. He relaxed his expression and settled for clenching his fists.

"Come now, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, we must eat! We are friends, are we not?" She got up, disappearing from her hut, her bangled hand motioning for the pair to follow.

Harry laughed to himself before following her out, making sure that Ron followed.

He loved Lerato; one moment she would be scaring him, the next she'd be the friendliest person he'd ever met.


End file.
